Military Reprehension
by Inez Ylon
Summary: Let sleeping dogs lie. Especially the dogs of the military. Not every scar leaves a visible mark on flesh. Complete.
1. Tramp's Hole

A/N: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. I've just borrowed them for my sick and twisted fun. Long first chapter. Enjoy.

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Tramp's Hole

Edward Elric paused at the mouth of the dim alley. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, hiding his features. If he went down this alley, squeezed through the hole in the rotten fence, followed the narrow passage between two buildings, crossed the decaying cul-de-sac, walked through another alley, and jumped the chain-link fence, he'd end up in the abandoned field behind the military barracks. It was a fast shortcut, but a dangerous one. There were many homeless bums who frequented the cul-de-sac and alleys. Edward was certain some of them were convicts. He pulled self-consciously at his hood.

The first and only time he'd gone barefaced down this shortcut, three men had tried to jump him. A pretty face and long hair was all that mattered to them, state alchemist or no. Discretion went a longer way than brute force in the darker alleys, Edward had discovered. So, shivering in the winter wind and frowning at the looming clouds, Edward headed down the alley. It was darker than usual, from the dim twilight created by the evening stormclouds.

Edward carefully did not think of what he was walking on, nor what he was smelling. It was better simply not to ask. He came to the rotten wooden fence, and squeezed through the jagged hole made by three punched-out boards. His hood snagged on a projecting edge. For a moment he was stuck half-in and half-out, cursing colourfully as he fought behind his head to free himself. The fabric tore, and Edward was loose. He cursed again at the fence, then ducked his head and started down between the two buildings. Just before the cul-de-sac, he had to turn sideways to slip through a narrow opening formed by some junk left over from old storefronts. His hood again hung, this time on a wire. It slipped down from his head, tearing noisily.

"Dammit, not again," he snarled, reaching awkwardly behind his head. "Ow!" Some of his long blonde hair was caught on the wire. "Stupid wire, stupid hood, stupid hair...I'm chopping it all off when I get back."

"Why? It's pretty," purred a female voice. Edward jumped, scratched his head on the wire, snatched several hairs out, and tore his hood farther. The woman beside him, dressed scantily despite the winter weather, laughed. "Here, I'll help you."

"Uh, thanks," Edward muttered suspiciously.

The woman easily untangled Edward. She had dark eyes and raven hair. She was not very pretty; age and her lifestyle had marked her features. Edward had little doubt that she was a prostitute. Only those women wore next to nothing in winter. She laughed. She had a pleasant voice. "There you are, blondie. Don't cut your hair. That's some pretty stuff."

"Thanks again." Ed pulled at his hood, and discovered it torn beyond wearing. "Dammit."

"You're welcome, blondie." She smiled, rather provocatively.

Edward ignored her, and began to head off across the dirty, dead-end street. If he went quickly, he could get out of here without any trouble. His forward motion was halted by a thin, strong hand on his arm. He glared back to see the woman hanging onto him.

"Oh, but don't you want to stay? We could play a little, blondie," she purred.

"Not in the mood, wench," he snarled, pulling away. He didn't mention the fact that he was still a minor, anyway. "Get lost."

"Oh, but we are in the mood," a deep, rough baritone proclaimed. Edward half-turned to see a large, hairy man looming behind him. "You're a pretty thing, even if you are a boy. What do you say we play some with Shade here, hmm?"

The woman laughed. "Shigumo, I saw him first."

Edward took the opportunity to edge backwards a step, keeping an eye on the both of them. He yelped and whirled when he backed into a lean form. A whip-thin man grinned, widely. "I want to play with him, too," he commented to the other two, keeping his eyes on Edward all the while.

"Now hold on," Edward snarled. "You will let me pass. I am a State Alchemist." He flashed the golden pocket-watch, and drew himself up as tall as he could. "I have important business to attend to. If my superiors hear I've been held up–" He got no further. The group, which had grown to seven while he'd talked, burst out into raucous laughter.

"I'll bet you I've met most of your superiors," the woman, Shade, purred. "And slept with them."

"They won't give a damn if you show up late, blondie," a man called.

"Besides, you're in our alley," the big man, Shigumo, laughed. He reached out for Edward.

Edward slapped his hands together. Alchemic charge flared blue-white between his palms. Energy raced hot through his veins, muscles quivering to sharp, almost painful readiness. But before he could bring his hands to bear, creating a weapon, a fist closed roughly around his braid and jerked hard. Edward yelped and twisted, trying not to fall. The alchemy dissipated in skittering jumps, leaving behind the peculiar heaviness and after-echo of heat.

A solid boot hit Edward in the knee, and his precarious footing gave way along with his leg. Edward bit back a short cry at the tearing pain as his right knee twisted to the side. He half-fell, his lower body hitting the grimy, broken pavement. His upper body was suspended by the grip on his braid. Instead of reaching for his alchemy, Edward drove his right fist up and behind his head. It connected, and the brittle vibrations of broken bones shuddered through the auto-mail limb. He collapsed on the pavement, but swung the momentum to roll over his shoulders. The defensive maneuver sprawled sideways as another kick drove hard into his ribs.

Before he could get up, another hand had him by the braid. Cursing, he drew his legs beneath him, only to sway into half-consciousness when a heavy fist landed behind his ear. Dimly, he registered the sudden pain blossoming there, and the ache from his abused scalp. He clung hard to reality, fighting his way to clear vision as rough hands eagerly caught at him, pinning him down to the jagged pavement. He blinked dazed amber eyes open to find a dark-eyed female face leering inches from his.

"I get to play after all, blondie," she hissed. For a moment, her features were almost familiar to him. Then her thumb thrust into the underside of his jaw. Edward gasped involuntarily. Like a striking snake, her head ducked down and she fastened her lips over his mouth. Edward froze, then gagged as her tongue swept into his mouth. He struggled, only to find a hand pressed over his throat, threatening to cut off his air. He went perfectly still, the warning all too clear. Fear flared through him.

Her other hand was groping through his clothes, sifting down to rest coldly on his chest, sliding in delicate patterns across his skin. He tried to pull away; the hand on his neck tightened marginally. It wouldn't have been any better if her hand was not there. Each limb was held down individually, probably by a thug. Edward rolled wide eyes to see his captors, knowing it wouldn't do him much good anyway. The same leering grin met him on either side of his head, the men holding his arms watching Shade violate him with eager lust.

He gasped in a sharp breath when she lifted her mouth from his, and started to draw in enough breath for a shout. Apparently reading his intent, her hand clenched bruisingly around his neck, choking him. Wide-eyed, he struggled to breathe again, body jerking convulsively. His heart-beat thundered in his ears. His vision began to fade from his open eyes, his struggles began to diminish. Suddenly he could breathe again, coughing around a bloody lather in his mouth. A venomous hiss sounded in his ringing ear.

"Play nice, blondie."

Edward found that while he'd swayed in and out of consciousness, her cold hands had parted the layers of his clothing. The winter air was almost painful on his exposed skin. He shuddered in revulsion and shame as her hands crawled over his flesh, seeking out the forbidden places. She leaned down and plundered his mouth again. When he tried to fight back, she bit his lips. Coppery heat washed through his mouth, impeding his breathing. The blood reached the back of his mouth, and he gagged. She drew back, and he could breathe again. She writhed atop him, twisting her body around his for her pleasure. Edward's breath rasped harsh through his bruised throat as she moved. Through pain and dirty pleasure and confusion it suddenly struck him; he was being raped. He was a victim. He tried to fight again, angry, but the woman did something to him that made him arch helplessly beneath her, breath snatched away by pain and pleasure entwined. She collapsed heavily atop him, panting.

"Get over, bitch, I want my turn," a harsh male voice snarled. The naked woman shrieked when she was hauled away by a handful of hair. Edward tried to lunge upwards, to get away. A swift chop to his bruised throat sent him lax against the pavement, choking anew against the darkness of unconsciousness.

A heavy mouth latched over his, wrenching his jaw open. Edward gagged as the man plundered his mouth, rough hands groping their way down his body. Edward let out a cry as the hard grip pushed over his bruised ribs. The man's mouth lifted away, and Edward gasped for breath.

"Hey, move him, will you? I ain't no bitch," the man growled.

"But he will be," another laughed. Edward fought, trying his best to kick as the men gripping his ankles forced his legs to bend, drawing them up and wide. One of them thumped his injured knee, making his struggles sharply weaker. Then the first man, Shigumo, was on top of him, roughly taking his mouth. He struggled, twisting, and for his efforts received a punch to his bruised ribs. He dropped limp again, nausea swimming up against his throat. He gave a short, pained cry when the man thrust hard, entering him. A word floated dazedly across his mind; sodomy. Sodomized rape.

Edward hung between darkness and reality as Shigumo was replaced by others. He lost count, but knew that the woman had at least one more turn. Slowly, consciousness receded, to be lost sharply when he felt his bruised ribs crack. Blessed blackness surrounded him.

* * *

"Alphonse Elric!" Colonel Roy Mustang greeted the suit of armor at his office door. "What brings you here so late?"

"I was wondering, sir, if you hadn't seen my brother," Alphonse replied in his strangely hollow voice. "He said he'd be back early, sir, but he hasn't appeared yet."

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye looked up from cleaning her handgun. "Edward left several hours ago. Do you think he's gotten lost?"

Alphonse made a worried noise. "Niisan can get sidetracked, but I don't think he got lost."

Roy frowned. "When did he leave, Hawkeye?"

Riza looked up at the large clock. It read several minutes after ten o' clock. "At four, sir."

"And he didn't mention any errands?" Roy asked, worry suddenly tinging his tone.

"No, sir," Alphonse replied. "He didn't."

Roy stood up, his uniform rustling. "Hawkeye, fetch me Hughes. This is his jurisdiction."

"Yes sir." Hawkeye fit the last pieces of her gun together, slipped it into her holster, and slipped smartly out the door. Alphonse watched her go, worry in his strange gaze.

"You don't think anything happened to him, do you, sir?" he asked.

Roy looked up at the seven-foot suit of armor. "He's Fullmetal. He'll be fine." He smiled, but the expression lacked its usual cockiness.

Lieutenant-Colonel Maes Hughes popped through the door and saluted. "You called, Colonel?"

"Yes, Hughes. Can you perform a sweep of the city? Fullmetal appears to be missing. I want to know if trouble has found him."

Maes snapped off another salute. "I'll get my men right on it!" He paused. "But first we need the details, sir."

Riza came up behind him. "Edward was here until four P.M.. He left, ostensibly to go to the barracks. Alphonse says that Edward had no errands to run, and expected to be back early. Alphonse waited some time, then came here, to see if Edward had remained."

Maes nodded. "I see. I'll start with the last-known location and spread out from there."

"You are dismissed," Roy ordered. He watched Maes leave. "And you and I, Hawkeye, will close things up here and walk with Alphonse back to the barracks."

"Yes sir," Riza replied.

"Oh, there's no need, Colonel," Alphonse protested.

"Almost everyone has heard of the Elric brothers, Alphonse," Roy replied. "And if Fullmetal has found trouble, it will try to find you." He smirked, then looked down at the pile of papers on his desk. "I despise reports...oh, the police want our help again."

"With what, sir?" Riza queried, pattering silently up to the desk.

"An escaped convict... Humph," Roy snorted, reading over the charges. "Shigumo, a multiple offender, mostly sex crimes. Jeez, the criminals we get here in Central. The lowest of the low." Roy scribbled a messy signature on the paper. Several more papers later, he stood up from the desk. "That's it for tonight. Come on, Alphonse, Hawkeye."

They left the office, leaving the locking up to the janitor and his staff. The trio wandered down the darkened streets. As usual, Roy commented on the filthy cul-de-sac of Tramp's Hole just before the fenced-in military barracks. Little did they know that they passed within ten feet of the missing Edward Elric, a limp body bundled into his coat and tossed carelessly at the mouth of the cul-de-sac, hidden only by shadows. They walked right past him, and headed onward to the barracks.

* * *

A/N: Uh-oh. Pretty faces equal trouble, eh, blondie-boy?

Edward: (Retching in the corner) I hate you. Seriously. That's just wrong.

Roy: That was just wrong. o.O Sick bitch.

Inez: That's me, a sick and twisted author. Get ready, there's more.

Edward: O.O (Weakly) Like this?

Roy: (Bravely reading ahead) ...not so bad...

Edward: ...

Inez: Read, review, hate-mail me...carry on. Roy, if you snap those fingers I'm breaking them all one by one.


	2. Found Broken

A/N: Second chapter, shorter than the first. I don't own these characters...'cept for Shade, Shigumo, and the other random thugs. That trash is mine.

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Found Broken

Newspapers the next morning had alarming headlines, on the missing-and-found Major Edward Elric. It was the subject of much gossip. The military hospital refused to give out any information on the nature of the alchemist's wounds, only that he was comatose and not expected to awaken any time soon. Rumors ran rampant. Some said Scar had returned, others insisted that it was an uprising of Ishvarites. Several, however, whispered that the Major had been attacked by the military he served, as punishment for crimes committed.

It was well known that Alphonse, the younger Elric brother, was at the Major's side by night and day. A young woman, rumored to be the Major's ladylove, had come in from Liesenburgh, a small town several miles out of Central. When asked, it was discovered that this Liesenburgh was a backwater town of nothing of interest, save only that it was the Elric brothers' town of birth.

Another very interesting fact was that the Colonel Roy Mustang was seen dropping by the military hospital frequently. The reasons for this were not well-known and rather hush-hush. It was assumed that he, as the Major's superior officer, had taken much offense to the direct attack of one of his men. Subsequently, it was also assumed that his visits were as much for reassurance upon the Major's condition as they were investigations for apprehending the culprit...or culprits.

Two days after the attack upon Edward Elric, Colonel Roy Mustang stood impatiently in the hospital hallway outside of Edward's room. "And why am I not allowed to view Fullmetal's files? I am his superior officer."

The doctor shook his head. "I told First Lieutenant Hawkeye why the first time you asked, sir. Major Elric himself woke up several minutes after we received him, and asked specifically that we not reveal the details of his injuries. Patient confidentiality requires that we abide by his requests."

Roy swore colourfully. "He causes problems for me even when he's out cold."

Winry Rockbell, Edward's mechanic, opened the door of Edward's room. "Colonel Mustang, sir? Could you come in here a moment?"

Roy waved a gloved hand at the doctor, dismissing him. He walked into the room, to find the previously-indisposed Edward to be propped up by several pillows. A drug-bleared stare sized up the Colonel and the First Lieutenant behind him. With careful deliberation, Edward lifted his right hand and saluted.

"At ease," Roy murmured, more from habit than any concern. "Well, Fullmetal, you've got a lot of explaining to do!"

Edward smiled a little at that. "Don't I always?" he asked, the biting sarcasm toned down by the slight slur in his voice. Alphonse, rather anxiously, reached over to put a hand on his older brother's forehead. Edward swore and flinched away. "That's cold!"

"You've got a fever," Alphonse informed him.

"I'll go get the doctor," Winry volunteered. She left before Edward could do more than open his mouth in protest. He scowled after her.

Riza came and leaned over the bedside in place of Winry. "You gave us quite the fright, Edward," she reprimanded. She, too, laid the back of her hand against Edward's forehead. Once again he flinched.

"Ow! Dammit, that's cold, and it hurts! So cut it out." He frowned petulantly.

Roy strode to the foot of Edward's bed. "Fullmetal, you'd better start talking. It takes a lot to get you flat on your back, and I'd like to know what trouble you've found this time." Roy had spent years interrogating prisoners of war. He was attuned to small changes of body-language, and was startled to see Edward flinch perceptibly at the phrase "flat on your back."

"Nothing I couldn't handle without a stupid hood catching on everything," Edward replied, slightly fuzzily.

Roy gave him a look that said I-am-not-going-to-deal-with-this. "Where did you go right after you left our headquarters?"

Edward gave him the stubborn glare of I-am-going-to-be-as-difficult-as-I-can. "Out the door and down to the coffee shop by the library, as usual."

"You didn't stay there, now did you?" Roy continued, starting to get angry.

"Hell no, does it look like I did?" Edward licked his scabbed lips.

"Unless the coffee shop by the library has sprouted thugs, then no," the doctor answered, striding in, followed by Winry. He held a clipboard in one hand, and a thermometer in the other. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but I'm going to interrupt your interrogation session."

Riza stepped back to allow the doctor access to the bedside. The doctor smiled at Edward, reassuringly. "I'm Dr. Nick, in case you don't remember me. The young lady here tells me you have a fever?"

"I remember you," Edward slurred, eyeing the doctor. "Are your hands cold again?"

"I'm afraid so," the man laughed. "Here, put this in your mouth, and I'll see if you really do have a fever. It could be that one of your injuries has a slight infection. I'd bet on the laceration to your scalp. Did you do that on a nail?"

"A wire," Edward mumbled around the thermometer. "Probably filthy, just my luck."

"Mmm, probably." Dr. Nick surveyed the top of Edward's head. "Lean your head forward and I'll look at it. With a longsuffering sigh, Edward obeyed. Dr. Nick parted Edward's hair and examined the shallow, though long, scratch. "Well, it doesn't look too irritated, but we'll put you on some antibiotics just in case."

"Joys, more happy pills," Edward managed.

Dr. Nick reached over and removed the thermometer. "Yes, probably more pills." He frowned at the small device in his hand. "Goodness, you do have quite a fever. I'll send a nurse by with those antibiotics promptly." He marked something down on the clipboard, which he had successfully concealed from Roy's prying eyes, and left again.

Edward stuck his tongue out. "Those things always taste so nasty."

"Pills or thermometers?" Winry asked, smiling. "I brought some water. I thought you'd be thirsty, Ed."

Edward smiled a little at her. "Thanks, Winry."

Alphonse sighed. "You're such a high maintenance brother, niisan."

"Sorry, Al." Edward leaned around the cup of water and offered a crooked smile.

"I'll return tomorrow, Fullmetal, and I expect the full details from you," Roy snapped. "Good day, Alphonse, Winry."

"Good-bye," Riza called as she followed the Colonel out the door.

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang did not make it back to the hospital the next day. He and several of his men, not to mention a small group of soldiers, were called out to help the local law enforcements. The criminal Shigumo had struck, leaving behind his signature; a bruised body strangled to death. The unfortunate victim was a young male, hardly older than fifteen. Aside from marks of beatings and strangulation, the boy had been violently raped. Roy barely hid his disgust as he ordered his men to scour the scene, looking for clues. They found little; this was apparently the drop site, and it was a place frequented by much traffic, pedestrian and otherwise.

The day after that, as Roy fumed and fussed over reports, he received an entirely unexpected visitor. He looked up sharply, an acid comment on his lips for whoever dared disturb him, and stopped in surprise as none other than Edward Elric limped carefully in. His brother, Alphonse, loomed anxiously behind him. Edward hobbled to the seat in front of Roy's desk, then impatiently shooed Alphonse back out of the room. Edward watched until Alphonse shut the door, then reached up and rubbed at his bandaged throat, pain flitting across his pallid features.

"Should you even be out of bed?" Roy asked, letting a challenging note slip into his voice. He propped his chin on folded hands, and let an arrogant smirk slid over his handsome features.

Edward dropped the hand from his neck. "I heard about the murder," he snapped, going straight to the point. There was a distinct rasp to his voice, now free of any drugged slur, and his posture was more defensive than usual. "And I think I know where that bastard is. His name is Shigumo, correct?"

Roy leaned back in his chair. "That is classified military information." He smirked.

"Cut the crap, Mustang," Ed snarled. He paused, pain darkening his eyes in his pale face, and one hand reached up again to his throat. "I think...I think he was one of those bastards that attacked me," he continued, voice hoarse. Roy frowned in consternation at the heavy rasp in Edward's breathing, but more at the way the blonde boy's posture shifted into a more defensive position. The teenager was not lying, but there was something he was very uncomfortable with, something he was concealing.

"Edward," Roy began, more carefully than before, "what did happen to you?"

Again the defensive shift, and the flicker of pain-dark eyes to meet Roy's and dart away. "There's a shortcut to the military barracks. You can cut down two alleys, cross the end of the cul-de-sac on Tramp's Hole, get through a third alley, and come out on the lot behind the barracks." Edward spoke to the edge of Roy's desk rather than the man behind it. "I'd done it before, without any trouble. I just had to keep my hood up. But...last time..." His voice faltered, and he coughed. Pain ran hard across his face.

Roy stood, and walked quietly to the door. He returned a moment later, bearing a cup of water. He set this down in front of Edward, then returned to his seat and waited, with more patience than many people had seen him display.

Edward gratefully sipped the water, and licked his scabbed lips. He dropped his gloved hand from his throat, took a careful breath, and haltingly resumed his narration to the front of Roy's desk. "Last time...my hood tore, and...several...several thugs..." Here the pause was long. "Assaulted...raped me. One was a woman...and one...several called him Shigumo." Edward swallowed harshly, and took another sip of water. Roy noticed the slight tremor in those gloved fingers. "It was in the cul-de-sac on Tramp's Hole. I have a feeling that's where he's hiding."

The silence stretched long. Roy shut his eyes and recalled the young victim of yesterday. He opened his eyes to find Edward watching him from beneath ragged bangs. The boy's gaze flicked away again, intensely defensive and uncomfortable. Roy frowned again, then pushed his chair back and stood. He spoke with a professional snap in his tone. "Thank you for this information, Fullmetal. I'll take my men to that location and see if we can't smoke out this criminal." The last was spoken with his wry humor, and an insolent flick of his gloved hand.

To his surprise, it got a pale imitation of Edward's maniac scimitar smile from the boy. "Thank you, sir. Am I dismissed?"

"You are. If you see Hawkeye, please send her in. Hughes, too, if you can catch him. That is all."

Edward saluted, then quietly left. He was quickly replaced by Riza and Maes, who had, apparently, been standing outside the office door, along with Alphonse. As the Elric brothers left, Roy dispensed this new information to his troops, and prepared his battle-plan. He found it thoughtfully countered by Riza, and another offered in its place. After some deliberation and much contact, permission was granted from all quarters. The attack was set for the next day.

* * *

A/N: There ya go. Next week, we see what this brilliant plan is.

Roy: (Staring at shredded gloves) That was unnessecary, you know.

Inez: Oh? Funny, I prefer not to be a cripsy critter.

Edward: (Pale in his corner) Just be glad she doesn't like you as much as she likes me. (Shudders)

Roy: (Looking ahead) ...hmmm, looking better.

Inez: Review, love, hate, flame me, read on.


	3. Scrimmage

A/N: Still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, nor the characters. Shigumo, Shade, and random thugs do belong to me, for what they're worth. On with the fight!

* * *

Scrimmage

"Are you sure you're up to this?" First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye asked.

Edward Elric sent her and annoyed glare. "I wouldn't have said yes if I wasn't," he replied, hoarsely.

Lieutenant-Colonel Maes Hughes chuckled. "Teenagers. I just can't wait until my daughter reaches that age. It will be a blast, I'm sure."

Riza rolled her eyes. "Whenever you're ready, Edward. And take care."

"Yes ma'am." Edward saluted her, though she ranked below him. He headed down the alley, steadily despite his limp.

Riza and Maes counted silently, then started after him. Riza had a handgun ready. Maes's right hand bristled with more than a few throwing knives. The wooden fence posed little problem, as both were agile enough the make it through the hole, but the narrow alley beyond it was daunting. Riza went first, handgun leading. Maes followed, keeping a careful rearguard. He paused when Riza did, and both waited for the action to start.

Edward limped out to the middle of the cul-de-sac, blonde head bared. Unfortunately for him, the trip on the uneven pavement was not the faked one he'd planned on. He landed heavily, injured knee twisted beneath him. He sat up, rubbing his skint elbow and cursing vividly. He glanced up, feeling fear creep along him, when a heavy female voice spoke.

"Oh, back again for some more fun?" Shade laughed, just a little. She paced around him, leering. "Hey boys, look who's back!"

"Hmm, it's the blondie," one man laughed.

Like vultures around putrid meat, so came the homeless bums and criminals. Edward recognized some faces among the thickening ring. He flinched when a loud, certain voice pushed boldly into the din. "Move over, I want a look!" Shigumo elbowed his way into the ring. He smiled when he saw Edward. "Well, well, blondie. Back for more?"

Edward acted swiftly. He slapped his hands together, and felt the alchemic charge race through him, heat and energy snapping his body to full alert. Ducking a hand that swung at him, Edward slammed his palms against the pavement, pulling stone and earth into a caging fence. The transmutation was half-way done when a hand caught him by the braid, hauling him up and back. Edward let out a pained cry as he was flung bodily against his half-finished fence. His cracked ribs flared into brilliant agony as he hit. He thought he felt them give way give a little bit more.

The roar of a battle joined raged around him. He could hear the peculiar sounds of individual ranking officers fighting. The whiz and keen of knives told him that Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes was fighting for once. He heard First Lieutenant Hawkeye's gun echo off several rapid reports; it was odd how he could pick her gun out of the many of the soldiers. The roar of "Behold my body!" informed him that Major Lewis Armstrong was within the fray as well.

As Edward dazedly fought to rise, a solid boot crashed against his ribs and sent him tumbling aside. Through gasping half-breaths and darkening vision, he saw the criminal Shigumo stride forward, bare hands reaching for him. Despite his now-broken ribs, Edward flinched back. He bumped unexpectedly into a solid leg. A shiny boot planted firmly beside his knees. Above his head, clear through the noise, came the sharp snick of someone snapping. Immediately flames roared to life over Edward's head, heating the air around them so swiftly that it boomed like thunder. Shigumo had very little chance indeed against the Flame Alchemist, Colonel Roy Mustang.

Edward looked up, and saw the man's face set firmly, glistening with sweat despite the coating of ash on his cheeks. The heated air from Roy's attacks sharply counteracted the winter chill, until Edward found himself almost too hot. For Roy did not move from his position over his wounded comrade, stubbornly maintaining his defensive stance. Behind him, Edward could hear Riza's gun, the woman keeping Roy's back safe. Edward, overcome by his broken ribs, quietly passed out before the short massacre ended.

* * *

The scrimmage at Tramp's Hole became something of legend before the day was out. People who had never even been near were spouting off the details. Naturally, most of these were exaggerated fiction. The story, however, had put the military's status among the common people into a shining light. Colonel Roy Mustang was especially everyone's darling, as his heroic action of avenging and protecting his comrade, besides eliminating several dangerous criminals, had been shouted from one end of Central to the other.

Colonel Roy Mustang himself, less than a day later, lounged in a chair by Edward Elric's hospital bed, reading newspaper articles aloud in a lazy drawl, much to the amusement of his companions.

"Oh, nice headline," he chuckled. " 'Military Reprehension at Tramp's Hole.' No picture, but you can't have everything."

"Well, what are they saying you've done now?" Edward asked grumpily from the confines of his bed.

"Anything, niisan, I'm sure," Alphonse Elric replied, laughing a little.

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye smiled wryly. "To hear them tell it, there were over a hundred men he defeated single-handedly."

"All the while weeping for the crime committed against his comrade in arms," Winry Rockbell dramatized, her tone perhaps more suited to a romantic story rather than a daring rescue.

"Yeck, if that's what they say, then I'm sorry I asked," Edward snorted.

"Oh, this is a good article! Listen up," Roy ordered. He began reading, pitching his voice for drama almost as well as Winry had. His baritone made him sound much like a radio announcer.

_"Military Reprehension at Tramp's Hole"_

_Written by Inez Ylon_

_"Let sleeping dogs lie" is a phrase many of us have heard. This old adage is true, it seems, for the dogs of the military, the state alchemists._

_The dangerous criminal Shigumo (see A2 for article) should have heeded this advice. He and a band of other notorious thugs assaulted Major Edward Elric, the elder of the famous Elric brothers, no more than four days ago. Major Elric was admitted to St. Nicholas' Health Care Center, the military's hospital, as a result of his wounds._

_The attack on one of the military's most brilliant and influential alchemists was an outrage not to be borne. Colonel Roy Mustang, known as the Flame Alchemist, led a brigade of soldiers and ranking officers to Tramp's Hole, where the criminal Shigumo was hiding. In a blaze of artillery and alchemy, Colonel Mustang smoked out the criminals. Several thugs died in the attack, and Shigumo himself later expired from wounds received during the scrimmage. Thirteen of these scum were captured, and await trial and sentence, which undoubtedly will come soon._

"Hey, they don't mention that I was there, too," Edward noted.

"Not surprising, considering what a stupendous help you were," Winry teased.

Alphonse put an arm in front of Edward to keep him from attacking Winry. "Here, calm down, niisan."

"And they don't give a smidgen of credit to my loyal men and ranking officers," Roy sniffed, folding the paper. "I recall some excellent shooting that kept those animals off my back."

Riza smiled a little. "Thank you, sir."

At this exchange, Winry smiled a secretive female smile. It faded into annoyance when Edward asked her what she was smirking about. "Never mind, you alchemy geek."

"Machine geek!" Edward retorted. "Ow! Otouto, help! Ouch! Al!"

"Niisan, you're on your own," Alphonse laughed.

* * *

A/N: There you go, next to last chapter.

Roy: That wasn't so bad at all.

Edward: Yeah, you weren't in the hospital with broken ribs, you smirking bastard.

Inez: Well, the last little bit is coming soon.

Roy: (Looking ahead) O.O You did _WHAT?_

Edward: I don't even want to know. (Covers his face with his hands)

Inez: This next, last chapter may not be popular. Heh. Review, flame, hate, love, read on. Peace out, dudes.

Roy: I think I want what's she smoking.

Edward: I sure don't.

Inez: And much thanks to Yunaberrie for pointing out that I have been spelling Lieutenant-Colonel Maes Hughes's name wrong. Sorry.


	4. Scars

A/N: Last chapter. Short chapter. Wierd chapter. This is the only fic that I've found that this happens. Fullmetal Alchemist and the respective characters do not belong to me.

_Scars are souvieners you never lose, the past is never far...grew up way too fast, and now there's nothing to believe, and reruns all become our history... _"Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

Scars

A week later Edward Elric stared down his own reflection. He'd been released from the hospital several days earlier. Alphonse Elric and Winry Rockbell were out, seeing the town. Edward had been left behind because, in roughly an hour, he needed to report in to Colonel Roy Mustang for a report and a briefing of his next mission, as it were. Edward stood, leaning on the bathroom sink, and staring fixedly at his reflection in the mirror. It showed determined eyes obscured by the fine cloud of blonde bangs. His hair was loose around his shoulders, drifting in soft locks down to his shoulder-blades.

He took a deep breath, and squashed the vain hope that Alphonse and Winry, or someone else, would come in and stop him. He lifted his right hand, took hold of his bangs, and lifted the scissors with his left. With a sharp snick, the hair on the right side of his face now ended just about his ear. He sighed, tossed the shorn lock into the trash bin, and started on the other side. Slowly but steadily, he trimmed away, until his hair ended about his ears. He looked up when he was done, and was surprised by how strange he looked. It was the even fringe of bangs across his forehead, he decided. For the longest time his bangs had parted in the middle. Now they were too light to separate, and so covered his forehead.

He dusted himself off, picked many fine blonde hairs from the sink, and tossed a paper towel in the trash, hiding the hair he'd thrown in there. Then he returned to his room to finish getting ready. His head felt strangely light, the back of his neck oddly bare. The shift and sway of his shortened locks felt strange, after the flow of longer hair. He missed the weight of a braid curving to his neck and spine. With a sigh, he pulled on his coat, hopped into his boots, and left the barracks. He felt rather self-conscious walking along the street, but saw no other choice.

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang wondered what the commotion outside his office was all about. He tapped his pen against his desk, and looked at the clock on the wall. Edward Elric was about to be two minutes late for his report. Roy did not like lateness. He looked to First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, who was sitting in a chair by the door, sorting through several folders in her lap. Roy glanced up when the door opened, and saw the familiar red coat of Edward. Roy did a double-take as Edward shut the door. The boy's braid was missing; not just missing, all of his blonde hair was cut obscenely short. Roy forced his jaw shut, but it was Riza who beat him to the question.

"Edward, what did you do to your hair?" She was up in a small flurry of papers, frowning down at the teenager.

Edward hesitated, surprised by the reprimand in her tone. "I cut it, obviously."

"You cut it so short! Why?" Riza leaned over and put a hand on Edward's shoulder, running the other over his cropped locks. He shrugged uncomfortably, moving his head away from her hand.

"Too many people kept grabbing me by the braid. So I cut it."

Riza stepped back as Roy came meandering around his desk. "Hawkeye could have told you how to keep long hair from being a disadvantage during a fight, you know," Roy offered. He leaned down and caught Edward by the chin with a thumb and forefinger. Edward scowled, but did not pull away. Roy stared intently at the shorn hair, lightly turning Edward's head this way and that during his examination. In the end, he too ran a hand over the shortened blonde hair.

"Cut it out. Everyone back there in the hall had to pet me, too." Edward pulled back, crossing his arms in annoyance. Roy read a touch of defense there as well. "Why are you all so upset? It was just hair."

Roy shrugged. "You look strange without it. I'd gotten used to the braid."

"Oh, Edward," Riza sighed. She did not elaborate. Instead she started gathering up her scattered papers.

"Well, Fullmetal, now that you've shocked us all, it's time for business." Roy headed back for his desk. "About this last trip you went on, how did the townspeople react to a military alchemist in their midst?"

* * *

Edward Elric stirred the pot of soup vigorously. Winry Rockbell and Alphonse Elric were due back any moment from their outing. Self-consciously, one hand rose to his short hair. He discovered himself twiddling with the ends, and removed his concentration back to his soup. He didn't want to burn it. No, a ruined supper on top of his haircut would not fly well at all with either Winry or Alphonse. So it was with great relief that he finally judged it ready and set the pot off the burner. As he was doing so, he heard the door open, and Winry and Alphonse call out to see if he was there.

"In the kitchen!" he hollered back, setting down his hot-pads. He opened the oven and peered curiously at the rolls. They looked almost done. One hand patted around on the counter for his hot-pads, and with them he pulled the pan out. He had just set it down on the stove-top when Winry's shriek assaulted his ears.

"Edward Elric, what on earth did you do!" Winry came flying into the kitchen. She almost knocked him over, and pulled anxiously at his shortened hair. He tried to fend her off with his hot-pad.

"Winry! Get off! Ouch, that hurts!"

"Niisan!" came Alphonse's horrified cry. "Your hair!"

"I know! Winry!" Edward succeeded in beating her off with the hot-pad. "It's not enough to kill me over, Winry. It's just hair. I cut it off this afternoon."

"Why?" Winry wailed, reaching over to pull again at his hair. He flinched out of reach.

Alphonse came over, and he, too, ran a hand through Edward's hair. "Niisan, why did you do that?"

"Sheesh, you and everyone up at the military headquarters has to pet me, huh?" Edward complained. But he stood for his younger brother to finish his inspection of the protested haircut. "I cut it off because too many people grabbed my braid during fights. I got tired of it."

"Hawkeye could have told you how to handle that," Winry protested, trying again to get her hands onto his head.

"Stop that." Edward retreated a quick step. "Dinner's ready, if it isn't cold by now."

They ate dinner, and slowly settled down for the night. Much later, lying in bed, Edward waited until he heard Winry start to toss and turn in the next room. Certain that she was sleeping, he got up, pulling his blanket around his shoulders. He padded over to where Alphonse sat, and squeezed himself between the suit of armor and the wall. There, he draped his arms around Alphonse's neck, and leaned all his weight upon the armor. Silence rested on the two brothers for a moment.

Alphonse raised a hand and stroked Edward's shorn locks. "Did this have to do with the fight at Tramp's Hole?"

Edward leaned his head into the touch, and sighed. "It might," he answered. "And it might have to do with my disappearance, too."

"Niisan, why won't you tell me anything? You always tell me everything. But you won't talk about why you scared me, or why you tried to fight at Tramp's Hole even though you were hurt." Alphonse sounded genuinely aggravated.

"Oh, Al," Edward murmured. "I just...I just...I can't." To show no ill intention, he leaned a little farther forward and put his cheek where roughly Alphonse's was. "I'm sorry, otouto."

Alphonse sighed. "Niisan, what am I going to with you?" he asked, shifting his hand along with Edward's head, keeping the contact. "What will I do with you? I can't leave you alone...you'd never take care of yourself properly."

"No, I don't think I would," Edward chuckled. "I'm glad I have you, otouto."

"Ed, will you tell me someday?"

"Why are you harping on that?"

The hand on his hair shifted, caressing, conveying what Alphonse could not. "Because you're my brother. And I can't stand to see you hurting. When you get so quiet, or get that look in your eyes, I know you're hurting. You get so defensive..."

"I just...it's too much for you to know." Edward ducked his face down, pressing it against the cool metal of Alphonse's shoulder. "It's too new," he whispered. His breath condensed on the armor, creating a damp spot. "It hurts too much... I don't want you to have to hurt like this. And you will...I know how you are."

"Would it hurt more than not knowing, niisan?"

"...I think...it might."

"Not knowing, I guess, and every guess scares me, niisan."

"Otouto, the truth often hurts more than not knowing."

"If I guess right, will you tell me?"

Edward hesitated, and the hand in his hair paused in its motion, sensing his distress. It resumed after a moment, and he sighed. The moisture under his lips chilled, then warmed. "I will tell you if you're right, otouto."

"It has something to do with your hair...something to do with Tramp's Hole... Was that criminal involved? He was mentioned in the newspaper... Roy said he was a very bad man. You were missing almost all night. You were hurt...you'd been fighting. But I don't think you won...you had bruises on your wrist that looked like hands. You ankle, too. And a bruise on your neck. Your lips looked like you had bitten them. Was it torture, niisan?"

"In a way." The silence stretched. "Not for anything. Not even to get at the military. Just to see...just to...to do it. They didn't kill me. They just..."

"You're shaking, Ed." And he was, fine tremors that vibrated into and through Alphonse. "I've never known you to be so afraid. What did they do to you that hurt you so much?"

His voice hung, and he choked. The little sound was muffled, yet Alphonse was attentive to it. His hand slipped awkwardly to Edward's shoulder and squeezed. After a moment, Edward stood up. He pulled his blanket tightly around himself, and moved in front of Alphonse. Alphonse had already adjusted his position. Edward nestled into the secure hollow formed for him, and closed his eyes when Alphonse carefully put his arms around him, one hand nestling again in Edward's shorn locks. Slowly, hot tears slipped down Edward's cheeks. He hadn't cried, hadn't wanted to, hadn't been able to...but now, tucked as close to his younger brother as he could get, he found the desperate control sliding away.

"Otouto... I...they..." he trailed off, and shuddered hard, once. The tears were distorting his whispers until he himself could barely understand them. Alphonse waited, ever so patient, understanding. In the face of such loyalty, how could Edward withhold anything? He turned his face into the hand stroking his hair, and mouthed the words he could not speak.

Alphonse made a quiet noise very similar to a sharp intake of breath. Carefully, he started to trace one word across Edward's cheek. Edward nodded before his little brother could finish, answering the unspoken question. In response, Alphonse carefully tightened the embrace. For a moment, behind closed eyes, Edward could feel his brother, as they had once sat, holding each other until tears passed, bearing each other's hurts as their own.

But he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

Edward, Alphonse, and Winry boarded the train for Liesenburg, waving farewell to the escort of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye and two regular soldiers. The trio went to their seats, and waited for the train to leave.

"Granny Pinako is not going to be happy with you, Ed," Winry complained, staring at his chopped locks.

"I know." Edward's fingers twiddled the ends of his hair. "At least she won't bop me with her wrench." He glared in Winry's direction. She was steadfastly ignoring him.

"Well, niisan, you were only out for an hour," Alphonse murmured, trying to peace-make.

"Argh." Edward twisted a short lock around his gloved finger. "And I still have a headache."

"How long will you two be staying at home?" Winry asked, abruptly. Both boys blinked at her, before following her subject change.

"Who knows. There's a rumor about the Stone south of Liesenburg," Edward replied, still twining one lock round and round his finger. "Besides, I don't like staying in one place too long."

"Bastard," Winry sighed, staring moodily out the window.

The boys exchanged startled glances. Alphonse shrugged. Edward scratched his head, and sighed. "Girls are confusing," he whispered to his brother. Alphonse nodded in sympathy, and reached over to stroke Edward's shortened hair. Edward scowled, but did not move. Alphonse seemed to be treating him with pity. Edward did not want pity. He was fine. He was. He regretted acting so hastily about his hair, but he was perfectly fine. If only Alphonse would believe it.

"Hey, boys, d'you think Granny will make us chocolate chip cookies when we get home?" Winry asked, turning from the window and beaming.

"I hope so!" Edward chirped, grinning madly. His eyes had the glazed expression of a chocolate addict hoping for a high.

Alphonse made a sighing noise. "Niisan. Winry, now you've done it! We'll not get anything out of him for hours now."

Winry and Alphonse burst into laughter. They laughed long after the train had pulled out of the station. Edward smiled a little smile as he stared out the window, feigning oblivion to their merriment.

* * *

A/N: In case you're wondering "why'd Edward cry now?" I have a scientifical answer. No, really. It's called post-traumatic stress, when the reality of what has happened hits the victim days, weeks, months or even years after the event.

Edward: I am not that much of a wimp! And you CUT OFF MY HAIR YOU ---------- BITCH!

Roy: O.O

Inez: Shaddap. I didn't say you were a wimp. And I've never found a story in which someone cut Edward's hair. So I had to try it, see?

Roy: No, I do not see. ...okay, maybe I do.

Edward: ARGH!

Inez: Read, review, flame, carry on, me hearties, yo-ho!


End file.
